


i fall apart

by stars_andstuff



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Everyone Needs A Hug, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Infinity War, Still Shipping Stony?, You better believe it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 01:11:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14485518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars_andstuff/pseuds/stars_andstuff
Summary: I had to write this to process my feelings about Infinity War. I’m still crying.





	i fall apart

Tony Stark sat in the rubble of the abandoned planet with nothing but dust around him. He had shed a few tears, but the grief numbed him, it stopped him from screaming and crying and punching things. There was no point to any of that now. Now there was nothing to do but sit.  _ I failed,  _ he kept thinking, over and over,  _ this is my fault, I failed.  _ His chest felt hollow. His stomach wound was bleeding again, but he hardly cared, hardly noticed. If he died now, what difference would it make?  _ He was just a kid, and he was so afraid. This is my fault.  _

He wondered how many others were dead, back on Earth. Thanos said half the universe. Did that mean Bruce, or Wanda, or Rhodey? Did it mean Pepper? Did it mean Steve? He couldn’t bear the thought of all of his friends gone, up in smoke, just like that. Staring at his hands, at the place Peter had been standing, it all felt like a cruel trick. Like a nightmare, come to life. 

It took him a long time to even notice the blue robot girl standing there among the debris. He couldn’t remember her name. 

“Tony Stark,” apparently she could remember his, “What are we going to do?” 

_ It’s my fault, it’s all my fault. I dreamt of this.  _

“Tony?” 

“Nothing,” he said. His voice sounded far away in his ears, “it’s over.” 

“Thanos is still out there. He killed my sister, and I won’t let him live for what he’s done.” Her voice was cold, filled with anger. 

“It’s too late,” Tony wasn’t looking at her, but at the plumes of smoke rising from the wreckage. Over the years he’d grown used to the smell of burning battlefields. The smell of sweat and blood, the adrenaline and the pain. This time it was different. This time they hadn’t come out victorious, they didn’t get to go out for shawarma and laugh and relax knowing the world was calm. There had always been grief, always a body count that Tony had to live with. This time he knew the faces of the people who were dead. He knew their families. He knew how much they had to live for. 

_ Poor kid, he never had a chance. I should have told him to stay home. He still would have died, but not like that. Not with me…  _

The blue girl was still talking, to Tony’s surprise. 

“...It would take two days for me to fix, and I am a pilot. Thanos must have gone to Earth for the final stone, we will start our search there, and we can-“ 

“I’m not going back to Earth,” he interjected. His hands were shaking. How long had they been shaking? “I can’t.” 

“Well,” she was looking him over, her eyes cool and alien, “I will fix the ship anyway.” She walked away, toward the abandoned and destroyed buildings of Titan. 

Tony pulled his sweater closer, leaned against a rock where he was sitting. He groaned, it hurt to move. The blood was drying on his side, he would likely survive the wound. He didn’t really mind the pain. It was something to focus on other than  _ it’s your fault you could have stopped it you were supposed to stop it he was so scared it should have been me it should have been me it should have been me. Strange was supposed to let me die, he told me he was going to let me die.  _

He closed his eyes, and behind his eyelids were piles of ash. Peter Quill and Drax and Mantis. Happy heros, idiots, they didn’t deserve to die. And the kid. Tony couldn’t stop feeling his fingers digging into his arm, clutching him in fear, begging for help that Tony couldn’t give. God, he was supposed to help people. He was supposed to keep them safe. But he was useless, he couldn’t stop Thanos, he could barely leave a mark on him. He had failed his only function. 

He sat like that for hours, numb to the world, longing for a sedative to pull him into sleep. He sat there like he was never going to get up again. Eventually he drifted, but the sleep was restless. Thanos was behind every door in his dreams. Peter was dying in his arms. He would wake up terrified, snap his eyes open, then see where he was, and close them again. Everytime he awoke, he had a bizarre hope that he was in his bed at Stark towers, with Pepper at his side. She would be ready to comfort him from this recurring nightmare. She knew how to deal with it, she’d spent years sleeping next to him, and this was the same dream. He would open his eyes, and his heart would sink like a stone in the ocean. Because Pepper wasn’t there, and she was probably dead, just like everyone else. It was all real this time. That look in Peter’s eyes… a sedative, or a whiskey. He needed something. 

Moving in and out of consciousness, he would wake at midnight, or in the afternoon, or just as the sun was setting, always in tremendous pain. And always, the blue girl wouldn’t be far off, restoring an old ship left over from the remains of Thanos’ home planet, Titan. He woke to the sound of hammering, or saw her welding metal on the outside of the ship. Once, she set a canteen of water at his feet, but darted off as soon as he opened his eyes. She went back to work, but kept glancing over at him, and seemed satisfied when he gave in and drank some of it. 

He slept, and dreamt of a baby. A little boy, with dark hair, who held Tony’s hand with tiny fingers while they walked together. They were in a forest, and the further they walked, the darker it got. The trees loomed over them, with bare branches like skeleton hands, reaching out. It was so dark. The little boy let go of his hand…  _ Please, Tony. Please, Tony Stark-  _

“Tony Stark, wake up,” someone was shaking his shoulders, jostling him. He was blinded by the pain of his stomach wound, it wasn’t getting any better. 

“Peter?” he mumbled, half asleep. 

“No, Tony Stark, it’s me, it’s Nebula. I have fixed the ship, it’s time for us to go.” There she was, the blue girl, standing above him, blocking the sun, straight faced as ever. Tony had no way of knowing how long he’d just been sitting there. It felt like weeks. 

“Why…”  _ why can’t you leave me here, why won’t I die.  _

“Your wound is beginning to smell, I’m taking you to Earth to get you medical attention. From there we will contact the Avengers, and devise a plan to find Thanos. There are properties of the time stone and soul stone that could be useful, and if we could take the gauntlet off his hand-”

“There are no more Avengers!” Tony snapped, and turned away from her, “Can’t you see that? Everyone is dead.”

“You know that isn’t true. Thanos vowed to inhilliate half of the population, it is likely that many of your Earth heroes made it out,” she paused, “I know you are afraid to see what family and friends didn’t survive, but I know if I can get to Thanos there is a chance we can reverse it.” 

“Do what you want, RoboCop,” he said, emotionless, “leave me to die.”  _ The damage is done, there’s no point anymore. It’s my fault it’s my fault it’s my fault.  _

He heard footsteps walking away, and was alone for a long time, watching the sun fall slowly to the horizon. He was trying to stay awake, but the pain in his side was nauseating, and as the sun set he closed his eyes and lived through it all again. 

 

 

 

When he woke up, all he could see was stars, whizzing by in a stream of light. He tried to move, to found himself bound, and panicked against the restraints, until he noticed his surroundings. He was strapped into the passenger seat of Nebula’s makeshift spaceship, she was sitting left of him, pressing buttons and pulling down levers, looking severe. 

“I’m glad you’re awake,” she said, “Do your best to stay up until we get there, it would be dangerous for you to sleep with your wound like that.” 

His whole body was aching, and his side felt like fire. He could barely register what she was saying, his eyes were already closing again. 

“I told you to leave me,” he said. 

_ It should have been me, he was so young, his eyes…  _

 

 

 

There were voices all around him, whispering. He felt comfortable, the fire on his side had lessened to embers, it felt as though he was laying on a cloud. He opened his eyes to harsh white lights, and the whispering ceased immediately. This was a hospital, he knew. On Earth. 

“Tony, oh thank God you’re awake,” said a familiar voice. Tony sat up in bed. 

“Bruce?” There was Bruce, standing at the end of his bed with that sheepish smile on his face. And there was Natasha, Rhodey, and Thor, with a furry little creature on his shoulder, and two fierce looking warriors dressed in colourful capes. And Nebula, slightly away from the group, with her arms crossed. 

“Hey, buddy,” Bruce said, “how are you feeling?” 

“Bruce,” Tony reached out for him with both hands, like a child. His hands were clean now, all the dirt and ash had been washed away. In the next second, Bruce was there, and they were hugging, Tony’s head buried in his shoulder. He hoped Bruce wouldn’t notice him shaking. He couldn’t seem to stop, “You’re alive,” he whispered into his tattered cardigan, “I’m so- you’re alive.” Normally so quippy and quick, he couldn’t string a sentence together anymore. He let go of Bruce, and looked around the room again. He was amazed by the survivors, the lucky ones, standing in front of him. 

“It’s just us,” Rhodey said, “and Steve, he’s downstairs now getting stitches. It was horrible, Tony. Half of the world gone, with the snap of his fingers. It’s been hard on everybody.”

“Steve,” Tony repeated. Suddenly there were butterflies in his stomach. The last time he’d seen Steve, he was beating the shit out of him. He remembered the flip phone that he always kept in his pocket, remembered the days that he’d spent with his finger hovering over the call button. It was hard to be away from him for so long. Steve was the only person in the world he could have a full conversation with just through pointed looks. They had a special relationship, to say the least. And if there had been times, after a battle, that in the adrenaline of victory, their touches had lingered and Tony’s heart raced, well, who was to say. He noticed Bucky wasn’t in the room, but maybe he was fine, and wasn’t there in fear Tony would try to kill him again. It was a complicated situation, to say the least. 

“I called him,” Bruce told him, “We needed his help. I hope that’s okay.” 

“That’s fine,” the thought of Steve in the same building as him sent shockwaves through his hollow heart. He felt like he could breathe again, if Steve was there, “And Pepper…” the looks on their faces said it all, “Oh.” 

“I’m so sorry, Tony,” Rhodey said. He was numb all over again. 

“It’s not your fault.”  _ It’s my fault, my fault, my fault. She was all alone. She must have been so scared, just like him. My poor Pepper.  _

A door opened, and a young black girl walked in with a tablet in her hand. Her eyes were red, she was looking rough. 

“Okay,” she said without looking up, “Everyone out, I have to change his bandage.” 

The group grumbled a little, but ultimately seemed happy to leave the room, tired and grief stricken. Tony was left alone with the little girl doctor, who said her name was Shuri. After spending a minute in her presence, Tony could see she was a genius. The bandage she was replacing was a grey, malleable piece of tech, made from vibranium. 

“I designed it,” she told him with half a smile. It didn’t reach her eyes. The wound seemed much better, already there was scar tissue healing over top of it. It was clear that he wasn’t going to die, not from this.  _ It should have been me. _ Shuri finished up and left quickly, leaving him alone in a foreign hospital. He fell back into bed, all the strength had been sapped from him just by sitting up. He thought about Pepper, and Peter. He couldn’t shake the thoughts in his head. Thanos was out there somewhere, celebrating his success, and all Tony could do was stare at the ceiling. He felt broken. His hands still shook. 

After some time, there was a knock at his door. He didn’t know how many times it knocked, and he didn’t answer. In his head, he was still on Titan, with ashes on his hands. But he heard the door open.

“Tony?” The warmth of his voice was an arrow in his heart. 

“Steve.” He sat up, ignoring the exhaustion to look his friend in the eye. It had been so long, Steve looked different; older and sadder. He had a full beard, his hair was getting long in the back. There were new stitches on the side of his head. But he was there, he was real, he was alive.

“Steve, I-“ 

“Why didn’t you call me?” Steve asked, marching up to him, “As soon as this started you should have called me, you shouldn’t have gone off without me, I told you I would be there if you needed me, and I would have, I would have been right there,” he sighed and sat down on the side of the bed, running a hand through his messy hair, “Instead I get a call from Bruce saying you and the spider kid are MIA, saying the world is ending. I thought you were dead, Tony.”

He looked at Tony, with those eyes, like the ocean during a storm. Tony missed those eyes. Steve cleared his throat. 

“I thought you were dead. And I couldn’t bear it. You- you should have called.” 

“Steve,” Tony felt dumb. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, his eyes were prickling with tears. It had been so long, “It’s my fault.” 

He started to cry then, finally, and it was like flood gates opening; pained sobs wracked his body. It was the first time he’d said it out loud, and the weight of the words came crashing down on him. He put his head in his shaking hands and he cried for the world, he cried for the mess he made, for the ashes he left behind. 

And then Steve was there, with a hand on his back, pulling him gently into his chest. It was Steve. His hands were calloused yet soft, he smelled like pine and shoe polish and toothpaste. Tony let Steve embrace him, crying into his hands with his warm arms around him. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Steve whispered, moving up on the bed so that Tony’s knees were over his legs, cradling him.

“It’s okay,” One hand was around his shoulders, the other was at the side of his head, stroking his hair and holding him close, “It isn’t your fault.” 

“He was just a kid,” Tony wept, “He was so young, and I thought I could teach him, I-“ he descended to sobs again. He had to fight to get his breathe back, “I loved him. H-he was dying, he begged me to save him, and I-I-I,” 

“Shh, Tony, it’s not your fault, okay?” his voice was starting to crack, Tony felt a tear land on his head, “it isn’t anyone’s fault. We did everything we could do, separated like that. We did everything we could. Shh, you’re okay, breathe.” 

Steve’s hand caressed his cheek. It felt so good to be held by him again. This man that he’d known for years, that he’d lived with, and fought with. This man he’d loved once, a long time ago. Maybe he’d never stopped.  

“I didn’t want to come back, because I didn’t know… but you’re really here.” 

“I’m really here,” Steve murmured. 

“You’re alive.” 

“I’m alive.” Tony dropped his hands from his face to wrap his arms around Steve’s torso. Together, they stayed quiet for a long time. They were both crying, softly, from grief or joy or a mixture of both. And Tony tried not to think about the dust settling on Titan, he tried not to think of the dying hands clutching him. He focused on Steve, his smell, the feel of him. The tears kept falling for a very long time. 

“Could you find me something to help me sleep?” Tony finally asked, “I can’t go to sleep without dreaming about it. They used to be bad and they’ve gotten worse. I’m scared to go to sleep, Steve.” 

Steve pulled away from their embrace to look Tony in the eyes. Gently, he wiped a strand of hair out of his eyes. 

“Let me stay here with you tonight,” he said, “we can get through it together.” He grabbed one of Tony’s hands, and squeezed. 

“Okay,” Tony said. He looked at the man, so strong yet so sad. He had faced his share of loss, it was clear in his eyes. “I like the beard.” 

He gave a little smile. 

“Thanks. I grew it out so people wouldn’t recognize me.” 

“It didn’t work.” 

“It didn’t?” He looked mock offended. 

“No,” Tony reached out and touched it. It was surprisingly soft, “you still look like Steve Rogers, if Steve Rogers were a lumberjack.” 

“Is that supposed to be an insult, or a compliment?” Steve asked. 

“That depends on how you feel about chopping wood.” 

“You’re filthy,” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes.

“I’m impressed,” Tony said, smiling genuinely for the first time in a long time, “the Steve Rogers I knew wouldn’t have understood that euphemism.” 

“Well, I’ve been gone for a long time,” he said. The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come up. 

“Yes,” Tony said, and wrapped his arms around him again, so they were laying together with their legs tangled up, “you have. You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. I’ll be alright.” Even as he was saying it, he knew it wasn’t true. He squeezed him tighter, his voice wobbled. That gave him away. 

“I’m not leaving you,” Steve reassured, “I promise you, I won’t leave. Not this time.” 

“Please,” It was too much. After Peter and after Pepper, if he didn’t have Steve… “I missed you so much,” Tony mumbled into his chest, “I don’t know how I’m going to get through this.” 

Steve stroked his hair. Softly, lovingly. 

“We’re going to keep trying,” Steve said, “We’re going to find Thanos, and we’re going to kill him. Tomorrow morning we’re going to get up and have breakfast at a little bakery in Wakanda that you’re going to love, and we’re going to stay alive. Okay?” 

Tony just sniffled in reply. 

“It’s not your fault, Tony. It’s not your fault. You have to keep going.” 

He was crying again, clinging to Steve’s shirt. He was still so sad, but in his head was a new mantra.  _ You’re going to live, you’re going to live, you’re going to live. For Steve.  _

“We’ll go for breakfast tomorrow,” Tony repeated. He felt him lean forward, and press his lips to Tony’s forehead. 

“Tomorrow,” he agreed. 


End file.
